


backdoor play

by theblueline



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2014 Winter Olympics, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 07:49:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8789623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblueline/pseuds/theblueline
Summary: PK didn’t come to Sochi with a plan to seduce Sidney Crosby. The plan sort of evolved over time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> No joke, I started writing this four days after Canada won the gold in Sochi. Then I was scrolling through my PK Subban tag (as you do) and came across [this](http://rosa--diaz.tumblr.com/post/117567915011/vespermartiniarchive-deactivate-at-one-point-at) and [this](http://rosa--diaz.tumblr.com/post/77370179715/missmollyetc-fuckyeaheightyseven-pk-subban) and suddenly wanted to finish it. 
> 
> Also, since Sochi was such a long time ago, there's a lot of stuff that might be inaccurate. But let's be honest, this is about the porn not the minutiae of the Olympic ice hockey tournament.
> 
> Title from me googling 'hockey double entendres'

PK didn’t come to Sochi with a plan to seduce Sidney Crosby. The plan sort of evolved over time. 

They’re sitting at breakfast the second day, a whole group of them, when Sidney sits down across from him.

“Hey, man,” PK says, because that’s just polite.

Sidney smiles at him, and it’s a genuine one, not his awkward-as-fuck version for when fans want to take pictures with him. PK likes that one too, if only because it makes him laugh.

“Hi,” Sidney says, taking a sip of his coffee. He makes a face. “This is gross,” he complains. It’s kind of petulant, but the way he’s wrinkling his nose is also kind of adorable. PK watches as he sets it aside and starts eating. 

“So how’re you feeling?” Sidney asks him around a mouthful of eggs.

“Excited,” PK says. “Also kind of nervous,” he adds, in the spirit of honesty.

Sidney just nods. “That’s normal,” he says, with authority. It’s weird to realise that Sidney’s only two years older than him. Sidney exudes this air of maturity and competence when it comes to certain things, that PK guesses comes from living in the spotlight for most of your life. “Nothing quite like it, though,” Sidney adds with a grin. It’s crooked and his eyes crinkle and PK thinks, _huh_.

Sidney wolfs down his breakfast and then leaves, saying something about a pre-practice meeting with Babcock. PK’s definitely watching him leave, but Sidney’s ass is basically a thing of legend so he thinks he can be excused.

“Don’t even think about it,” Carey says from his side. PK turns to him and widens his eyes innocently. 

“Think about what?” he asks, and Carey gives him a flat stare.

“I know that look,” he says. “Keep it in your pants.” 

“But Pricey—” PK whines.

“No,” Carey says sternly. PK shrugs and goes back to his food. He’ll take Pricey’s advice on consideration. It’s the Olympics, after all.

*

He’s scratched for the first game. It’s not a huge surprise, but it sucks all the same. It does makes it all the sweeter to be on the ice against Austria, though, especially when the game turns into a blowout. PK didn’t dazzle by any means, but he thinks he was solid and playing at the Olympics is a different kind of high.

At dinner that night he’s still buzzed not even planning it when he sits down beside Sidney, accidentally jostling him on the arm. 

“Easy on the goods,” Toews says from across the table.

Sidney snorts but scoots over a little and smiles at PK. 

“Good game, eh?” 

It was amazing, pulling on that jersey, playing for Canada at the goddamn Olympic games, but PK can play it cool.

“Not bad. Only one assist though?” he adds, raising his eyebrows, and Sidney rolls his eyes. 

“Oh fuck off,” he says, but he doesn’t sound offended.

“Sid likes to save it for when it really counts,” Carts says from next to Toews. “Likes to swoop in and save the day.”

The conversation quickly devolves into teasing and chirping, mostly directed at Sidney, and PK is content to just sit back and enjoy it. Sidney takes it well, either laughing at himself or chirping right back, and he’s in such a good mood that it’s fun to just watch him talk. 

At the end of dinner, when Sidney’s standing up to leave, he punches PK lightly on the shoulder. 

“Can’t wait to see you back out there, Subban,” he says and it sounds half-joking, half-encouraging. God, Sidney is something else.

“You’re not ready,” he returns with a wide smile. Sidney just raises his eyebrows and makes a bring-it-on kind of gesture as he walks away. It’s fucking adorable. 

Yeah this is going to be a thing.

*

PK doesn’t get to play against Finland, and it’s agonising to watch the game; it’s way closer than it should be and afterwards the mood in the locker room is of relief more than celebration.

“Practice, 9 am tomorrow,” Babcock says, shortly. That doesn’t bode well.

But practice is good; everyone knows they need to be better against the US in the semis and it shows in their skating. It’s intense without being too gruelling, and PK feels pleasantly sore afterwards. 

He heads for the bikes to cool down, and to his delight, Sidney hops onto the one next to him. He starts telling a story about him and his boys in Pittsburgh and it’s so effortlessly charming, PK can’t help but grin. 

“Flower made everyone get off the bus and get back on again, in what he said was the right order,” Sid finishes and he can’t hold back his weird giggle-honk, which sets PK off, too.

“And I thought my goalie was crazy,” he says when his laughter subsides, loudly enough for Carey, who’s over on the mats going through his ritual post-practice stretches, to automatically reply, “Fuck you, PK.” 

Sidney laughs again, and he’s flushed and sweaty and happy and, well. PK has other things to focus on right now, namely getting as much ice time as possible, but if the opportunity were to present itself, it’s not like he’s gonna say no.

He maybe stretches out slightly more than necessary when he gets off, and takes his shirt off to do his stretches, because it’s sweaty and gross. He doesn’t watch Sidney, but he can feel eyes on him, and he hopes they’re lingering just longer than they should. 

He grins and heads for the shower, bumping Carey along with him, making sure he brushes past Sidney on the way.

“You’re the worst,” Carey says. “The _worst_.”

“You’re just jealous of my effortless charm,” PK tells him.

Carey gets him in a headlock and they push and shove all the way to the showers.

*

After dinner some of the guys suggest going to watch the ice skating, and PK tags along. It’s actually a lot of fun; ice dancers are amazing, whatever anyone says, and it’s fun to watch and yell and cheer with the rest of the guys. Someone suggests are bar after they’re done, a plan PK fully supports, especially when he hears Sidney laugh and agree to “just one drink guys, okay?”

It’s a nice, relaxed place; dim lighting, comfortable seats, vaguely familiar music playing in the background. There are some team USA guys there and PK finds himself at a table with Patches and JVR, and they sit around and shoot the shit for a while. 

He’s heading to the bar for another drink when he sees Sidney, leaning against the bar fiddling with his phone. Not planning anything except friendly conversation, he makes his way towards him.

Sidney smiles when PK reaches him, that full, toothy grin that PK has to admit is actually adorable. Sidney holds up his phone.

“My roaming is shit,” he says. 

PK digs out his phone and waves it in his direction but Sidney demurs. 

“It’s not urgent,” he says, tucking away his own phone. “Just wanted to text my sister, she has a test today.”

“You’re close?” PK asks. He catches the bartender’s eye and waves his beer bottle to ask for another.

“Kind of?” Sidney says. “She was pretty young when I left home, but I’ve tried to keep in touch and see her as much as I can. Never feels like enough though, you know?”

“I do,” PK agrees. 

“You seem close with your brothers?” Sidney asks, and yeah, he’s definitely standing closer to PK than is entirely necessary. 

PK hides his grin.

“Yeah,” he says. “Same problem, living far apart, but yeah. We were all close growing up, my sisters, too, and we make an effort to keep it up. Family’s important, you know?”

“The most important,” Sidney agrees. And because Sidney is a captive audience and PK can’t help himself, he pulls out his phone to show him pictures of his nieces and nephews.

Most people just make a polite comment about how cute they are, but Sidney seems genuinely interested, commenting on their facial expressions and laughing at all the right places.

“You want kids?” he asks, making it casual by taking a sip of his beer. But he does shift his body a little more towards Sidney’s and makes sure he brushes his hand when he takes his phone back. 

“For sure, one day,” Sidney says immediately. “A whole bunch.” 

PK looks at him, and Sidney is definitely looking at his mouth. It’s absolutely the wrong place; they’re in a public bar, in Russia, but PK wants nothing more than to lean forward and find out what that ridiculous mouth of Sidney’s tastes like. 

“Me too,” he says, and clinks their beer bottles together. He turns the conversation, and Sidney follows him easily. PK had always thought Sidney would be a kind of awkward conversationalist on any topic except hockey, but he’s smiling and matching every story PK tells with one of his own. 

He’s more tactile than PK would have expected, too, leaning into it whenever PK brushes his arm or bumps their hands together. All promising signs. 

“So forgive me if I’m reading this wrong, but do you wanna maybe head back?” he says, pitching his voice low and cocking his head just slightly. It’s a move with a 95% success rate, fuck you very much Carey. 

And then Sidney starts back and flushes (which only makes him hotter) and babbles, 

“Uh, sorry, no thanks, I have to get back to—” he gestures vaguely at one of the team Canada tables and, snatching his beer from the bar, flees back to it. 

PK rolls his eyes, a little disappointed but not too disheartened. Wrong time, wrong place. 

He can wait.

*

The game against the US is too tight for anyone’s liking, but a win’s a win and they’re into the gold medal match. The chance to play for the gold medal—god. PK’s dreamt of that his entire life, and can’t quite process that it’s really happening.

They’re all a bit buzzed in the Team Canada house that night; no one’s willing to drink much and feel shitty the next day, but there’s loud music and beer and someone found a ping pong table and everyone seems to be having a great time. 

PK’s hanging out with Webs, lounging on a sofa and attempting to outdo each other with stories of the worst coaches they’ve ever had, when Sidney finds him. His eyes are bright and his cheeks are red, like he’s been working out, which wouldn’t be a total surprise. 

“So, I’m kind of a dick,” Sidney says, taking the other end of the sofa and pulling his legs up until he’s not touching PK at all. Sidney can be weird about personal space. 

“Okay,” PK says agreeably, because it’s kind of true. Sid rolls his eyes. He leans in closer so he doesn’t have to talk so loudly to be heard over the music.

“The other night,” he starts, and then breaks off. He bites his lip. “It’s not that I didn’t want to—”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” PK interrupts. Sure it was kind of awkward and maybe disappointing, but he gets it. “It’s fine.”

Sidney looks frustrated.

“It’s not that,” he insists. “I wanted to. I _want_ to,” he says, and his eyes flit to PK’s lips. He drops one leg down and moves closer, his knee brushing PK’s leg. He drops his voice, close enough to be heard over the music.

Webs coughs and stands up, muttering something about finding Duncs as he flees. 

“I don’t sleep with teammates,” he says. “It’s just—it’s too complicated. It’s hard to keep things separate and it’s—it’s messy,” he finishes, and now PK’s wondering just who on his team Sidney’s slept with before and what exactly happened there.

“Okay,” he says slowly, because Sidney’s saying this but he’s not backing away. If anything, he moves even closer, and then he rests his hand on PK’s wrist. 

“But I want to,” he says, a hint of a whine edging into his voice, and PK can’t help but smile. They’re almost close enough to be kissing, and while PK’s sure Sidney would never go for that somewhere as public as here, the idea of it is so hot. 

“You know,” he says, meeting Sid’s eyes, “after tomorrow we won’t be teammates anymore. Not really.”

Sid licks his lips, and then bites them, and PK has to look away before he does something stupid. “That’s true,” Sidney says, and his hand on PK’s wrist tightens.

“Any rules about sleeping with rival team members?” he asks.

“No Flyers,” Sidney says immediately and PK bursts out laughing. Of course Sid’s thought about this before. 

“No problems there,” he points out, and Sid nods. His hair’s damp and curling around his ears and PK wants to touch it, to push it back off his forehead and kiss him. 

“Okay, so, tomorrow,” Sidney says. “If, you know,” he drops his voice, like saying it out loud will incur a jinx, “we win. Then. Yeah.”

God, he’s so fucking awkward, but PK’s charmed anyway. 

“Better win, then,” he says, and Sidney nods, but PK’s not sure he heard him, because he’s staring at PK’s mouth. 

“Yeah,” he says after a moment, looking back up into PK’s eyes.

They sit for a moment in silence, before Sid breaks eye contact and coughs. He moves like he’s about to leave, stills, blurts out, “You’re really hot, you know?” and then hightails it out of there. 

PK grins. This is gonna be amazing.

*

They win, _of course_ they win, and it’s the most amazing feeling PK has ever experienced.

Piling onto the ice to throw his arms around Pricey, and Sid, and hugging and laughing and screaming with everyone, the weight of the medal around his neck, the sound of the anthem playing in the arena; PK’s sure he’ll never forget a second of it.

He gets his phone out at one point, filming everyone, even gets Sid to say “what’s up!” to the camera, eyes crinkling as he smiles. Yeah, that one’s definitely going on instagram.

Afterwards, in the locker room, there’s champagne and beer and singing, and then the party moves back to the house where there’s more champagne, more beer, and much more terrible singing. PK ends up sharing Carey’s lap with Angela, an arm around Carey’s neck as they pass a champagne bottle between them. God, he can’t stop smiling. 

“You’re the best, Pricey,” he says happily and places a smacking kiss to Carey’s forehead. “The best in the entire goddamn world.” 

Carey snorts, but he’s grinning and not fooling PK at all. 

“The best,” Angela echoes, and then they’re making out so PK hoists himself off Carey’s lap to find someone else to hug. It’s kind of their honeymoon, after all; PK can give them some space. 

He doesn’t get very far before an arm makes its way around his shoulder and he turns to find himself nose-to-nose with Sidney.

“Hi,” Sidney says. He licks his lips. 

“Hi,” PK says back, not his smoothest line but Sidney’s lips are so goddamn pink. 

“We won.” Sidney’s grinning stupidly. 

“Hell yeah, we did,” PK replies. 

“We should stay for a while,” Sid glances around at the crowd, “but come to my room later? 201. It’ll be empty, Webs is sneaking out with his wife tonight.”

“I don’t think it counts as sneaking out if you’re married,” PK points out. 

“Just come,” Sidney says, and his arm tightens around PK’s shoulders. 

“Dirty,” PK teases, and he’s pretty sure Sidney would be blushing if he wasn’t already flushed an enticing shade. “I’ll be there,” he adds. He doesn’t want Sidney in any doubt about how much he wants this.

“Good,” Sidney says, releasing PK from his grip. “And don’t drink too much. I want everything...fully functioning,” he adds with a wink as he saunters away and PK has to laugh. Who knew Sidney had that kind of innuendo in him.

“You too!” he calls after him. Sidney just waves at him and disappears into a crowd of people.

PK catches Carey’s eye, and to his surprise, Carey huffs and gives PK a thumbs up.

PK will take it as a blessing.

*

PK sees Sidney slip out of the party at about 2:30 am. He lingers a bit, about fifteen minutes, before he follows him, making his way up to Sidney’s room as quickly as he can. The halls are deserted, everyone still partying, and he doesn’t meet anyone on the way.

He’s only knocked once when the door opens, as if Sidney had been waiting with his door on the handle just for him. 

“Hey,” Sid says, and then grabs him by the shirt and hauls him inside. He kisses PK urgently, pushing him back against the door, his hands already sliding under PK’s tshirt.

PK gives it back to him with everything he has, opening his mouth against Sid’s straight away and coaxing his tongue into his mouth, enjoying the taste of champagne and Sid. Acting on a hunch, he pulls back just a bit and bites lightly at Sid’s lower lip. Sid makes the most incredible breathy sound when he does that, and PK files that away for future reference. 

He gets his hands in Sid’s hair and tilts his head just a fraction and yes, that’s perfect. Sid obviously agrees, by the way he presses closer to PK, his entire body pressed against him, one hand slipping down to grab his ass. PK’s medal, still around his neck, is digging into his ribs and while it’s technically uncomfortable, PK is definitely into it.

“Okay, okay, there’s no hurry,” he gasps out when they part, Sid already starting to rock his hips against PK’s. Sid huffs, but he pauses, breathing heavily and looking at PK through his lashes. Except he can’t seem to manage it, every other second his eyes drop to PK’s lips, and god, he’s going to be the death of PK.

Now that he can actually see, PK notices that Sidney’s showered; he smells a little like soap and he’s wearing clean sweats and a team Canada tshirt. PK looks over his shoulder and sees Sid’s medal hanging on his nightstand. He can’t stifle his smile. 

“What?” Sid asks, amusement colouring his voice. 

“I’m gonna fuck a gold medallist tonight,” he says, sing-song, and starts backing Sidney towards the bed. 

“Me, too,” Sid says, and he starts giggling as he runs his fingers along the medal hanging around PK’s neck. 

“Nice goal tonight,” PK tells him as his knees hit the bed and he goes tumbling onto it. Sid shrugs.

“There’ve been better,” he says and on anyone else it would sound fake-humble, but PK knows Sid probably means it. He doesn’t think Sid is paying much attention to the conversation though, from the way he’s staring up at PK from the bed.

“What, like a goal in overtime in a gold medal match at the Olympics?” he teases. He kneels on the bed, hands going to rest by Sid’s head. “Can’t compete with yourself.” 

Sid rolls his eyes and tugs PK down, getting his arms around PK’s neck and tilting his own chin up. It’s an invitation to be kissed if ever there was one, and PK doesn’t plan to deny Sid anything tonight.

It’s slower this time, less frantic, but just as intense. PK gets a leg in between Sid’s and he starts to rock them together in a steady rhythm. Sid shudders at the contact at first, his hand tightening on PK’s back, but he rocks right back into him. He’s hard, his sweats doing nothing to hide it and god, PK wants at his dick. 

He reaches one hand in between them to palm it and Sidney moans, pressing his hips desperately up into PK’s hand. He takes his hands off PK’s shoulders and slides them down to his hips, forcing them together with even more urgency. 

PK has to kiss him again and Sid responds eagerly. It’s messy in that perfect way it can be during sex, and PK needs to see him naked. When he sits back, Sidney’s eyes fly open, but he quickly gets with the program when PK starts pushing his shirt up and off him, sitting up and ripping it off. 

PK takes off his own champagne-soaked shirt, and it pulls around his medal but comes off easily enough, and he suddenly wonders if he should have showered, too. Except Sid hands go straight to his chest, and he looks like he’s having a religious experience, running his palms all over PK’s chest and abs. He traces the medal, too, pressing it against PK’s skin before looking up at him through his thick lashes.

“Is it weird if you keep this one?” he asks and PK laughs and kisses him again. 

“Probably a little,” he replies and Sid nods decisively. He takes the medal off PK carefully and lays it next to his own on the nightstand. 

Then he leans back in and licks at one of PK’s nipples, like he knows how into that PK is and then, with further unerring instinct, he bites at it gently.

The sound PK makes isn’t one he’s proud of, but he couldn’t help it if he tried. Sid, looking very pleased with himself, does it again, a hand drifting up to tweak at PK’s other nipple. PK kind of loses it for a second, and Sid takes advantage, flipping them on the narrow bed and looming over PK.

“Sensitive nipples,” he muses. “Interesting.” 

He goes back to work on them, mouthing and biting, and PK lets his hands drift into Sid’s hair, not holding on too tightly, just stroking and guiding him. From that position, Sid’s chest is rubbing regularly against his dick, light enough to be a tease more than anything else. He’s just about to beg Sid to _do something_ when Sid’s mouth starts drifting down. It slides across PK’s stomach, pausing to scrape his teeth the cut of his iliac crest, before he retreats all together. 

Sid’s hands float along PK’s hips, toying with his tracksuit pants. His mouth is swollen and his eyes are incredibly bright.

“God, you’re so hot,” PK says, unembarrassed by the sentiment. The very tips of Sid’s ears go pink, which is fucking adorable. Sid’s going to say thank you isn’t he. 

“Thank you?” Sid says and oh god, he needs to stop before PK actually falls in love with him. Thankfully, Sid chooses that moment to yank down PK’s track pants and boxers and get a hand around his dick. 

PK yelps at the sudden contact, but immediately starts pushing his dick up into the loose fist Sid has around it. Sid’s keeping it light and teasing, but the relief feels incredible. 

“Hang on,” Sid says, “let me just—” He goes to pull PK’s pants off completely, only to encounter his shoes. Frustrated, he yanks them off roughly, which PK is definitely into. 

“Eager,” he teases, but Sid only huffs and crawls back up the bed, having deposited PK’s clothes and shoes in a heap on the floor. He’s kneeling in between PK’s legs, and slides his hand back around his dick. His hand is firmer this time, stroking faster, and he’s honest to god staring at PK’s dick like he’s trying to mind meld with it. 

“Uh, do you want me to leave you two alone?” PK asks.

Sid looks up at him and flashes him a smile that’s almost seductive, and then he swallows PK’s dick. 

“Holy _shit_ ,” PK gasps, his hand moving to frame Sidney’s head. He tries not to push up into the wet heat of Sidney’s mouth, an almost impossible task. Sid is good at this, like world-class good, and PK wonders if he should have expected this. It’s the perfect amount of suction, no teeth, his hand firmly around the base of PK’s cock. 

“Fuck me, how are you so good at this,” he groans, petting at Sid’s head, his other hand drifting down to trace Sid’s mouth as he sucks him. Sid looks up at him with wide eyes but PK can tell that he’s smirking. He uses his free hand to urge PK to bend his legs, which PK does, which gives him more control of how he’s ever-so-slightly fucking his cock into Sid’s mouth. 

PK lets his head fall back and throws his arm across his eyes, giving himself over to the pleasure of Sid’s mouth. He’s not close to coming yet, but another five minutes of this treatment will see him well on his way. He’s just about to tell Sid to cool it when Sid’s fingers brush against his perineum and slide back towards his hole. He moans so loudly, he’s glad there’s no one in the adjacent rooms.

Sid pulls off his dick with the most incredible slurping noise and looks up at him.

“Can I—do you like—”

“ _Yes_ ,” PK says fervently. “Please,” he adds, because he’s a good polite Canadian boy. Sid laughs, pressing his face into PK’s thigh. 

“In the drawer,” he says, gesturing at the night stand. “There’s lube.”

PK scrambles to get it out and practically throws it at Sid’s head. 

Sid squirts some onto his fingers and then they’re back, teasing at PK’s rim. PK arches his back and tries to relax, eager to get Sid’s fingers in him. 

At the exact moment that Sid breaches him, he takes PK’s dick back into his mouth, a beautiful, coordinated effort that, were he not in heaven right now, PK would stand and applaud. Sid’s knows what he’s doing, starting slow to allow PK to adjust to him, but building up to a steady rhythm. 

“Another one, please,” PK begs. Sid hums and presses a second finger against PK’s hole. This one goes in easier and the fullness is perfect. PK plants his feet firmer and pushes back against Sid’s fingers, helping him to find that perfect rhythm again. The combination of Sid’s fingers in him and his mouth on him is exquisite; either it’s been too long since PK’s had sex or Sid is just really, really good at this. 

He’s about to articulate that thought when Sid twists his fingers and drags one over his prostate and a full-body shudder goes through PK. 

“Fuck,” he yelps, then starts babbling. “Fuck, fuck fuck, Sid, you’re fucking perfect.” 

He’s so not ready to come, but he doesn’t want this to stop. Ever, really. But he becomes aware that Sid is rocking his own hips into the mattress, looking for some relief, and PK tugs at Sid’s hair until he stops sucking him. 

“What?” he asks, sounding disgruntled, and PK has to laugh at that. 

“Come here,” he says, and Sid obliges, sliding his fingers out of PK and crawling up the bed. He collapses onto PK, only vaguely aiming for his mouth, and PK catches him, pressing their lips together. He feels a little empty and a lot turned on, but there’s still plenty of pleasure to be found in this. He turns them onto their sides and tangles their legs together, pressing his naked cock against Sid’s sweatpants as he kisses him. 

Sid starts to make breathy, needy little sounds into PK’s mouth that are driving him wild. He gets his hand inside Sid’s sweats and gets a loose fist around his cock, starting to jerk him slowly.

“Mmm, yeah,” Sid mumbles against his lips. PK bites his lips playfully and that gets him a proper groan.

PK lets go of Sid’s dick and slides his hand around his hip to get a handful of the ass that he’s literally been dreaming about for almost two weeks now. Sid loves that, throwing his leg around PK’s hip like he’s trying to climb him.

PK pulls back so he can focus on Sid’s face, watching as Sid’s eyes blink open after a moment. 

“Sidney,” PK says in his sincerest voice, “I really, really want to eat your ass.”

Sid bursts into giggles, pressing his face into PK’s neck. 

“Fuck yes,” he mumbles, pushing his hand down to start pushing off his sweats. PK gives him a hand and then rolls him onto his stomach. Sid props his head up on his arms and looks over his shoulder at PK, looking extremely pleased with himself. 

PK drags his hands over Sid’s ass, just enjoying the shape for a moment. It really is a thing of beauty. 

“Are you just gonna look at it or what,” Sid complains after a moment, wriggling his hips and making his ass bounce in an endearing and enticing way. 

“Patience,” PK says, scraping a nail along one ass cheek. Sidney huffs, spreading his thighs wider, and then stills. 

PK doesn’t have much patience anyway, and he parts Sid’s cheeks and draws his thumb across his hole. Sid shivers. No point keeping him waiting; PK leans in and licks across Sid’s hold in one broad stripe and Sid bucks back so enthusiastically that he almost breaks PK’s nose.

PK tightens his hands on Sid’s ass and hip, forcing him to still, and licks him again, this time concentrating more on his rim, circling it with the point of his tongue. 

“Shit, yes, like that,” Sid says bossily. “Use your tongue like that.”

More than happy to oblige him, PK repeats the motion, working his tongue into Sid little by little. Sid goes wild with it, and the longer PK goes, the more filth starts to pour out of Sid’s mouth. 

“God, come on, fuck me PK, put it in me,” Sid moans, to PK’s utter delight. 

When PK pulls back for a beat and then places a long, open mouthed kiss directly on Sid’s hole, he gets an extended 

“Fuuuuuuck, yeah, do that again, kiss my hole.”

They’re verging into porn dialogue and it’s only turning PK on more. His dick is so, so hard now, and he desperately wants to be inside Sid. As if reading his mind, Sid’s hand scrabbles on the bed and shoves the lube into PK’s hand.

PK slicks up his hand and starts working a finger around Sid’s spit-slick rim until Sid, clearly not content to wait, shoves his hips back and forces PK’s finger inside him. Once he’s loose, PK works a second and and then a third finger in, and now Sid’s up on his knees, shoving his hips back to fuck himself on PK’s hand. His ass looks phenomenal around PK’s fingers.

“Fuck, babe, you look so good,” he says, the endearment slipping out unintentionally. 

Sid turns and glares at him over his shoulder. Or glares as much as he can when PK has three fingers in his ass and his other hand curled around his dick. 

“Don’t call me babe,” he says.

“Okay, babe,” PK teases, punctuating it with an insistent push against Sid’s prostate. Sid spreads his thighs even further, moaning like he’s dying for it and okay, PK needs to be inside him five minutes ago. 

He pulls his fingers out and Sid whimpers. 

“Condom? Sid, fuck, come on, tell me you have condoms.”

Sid waves at the nightstand again and PK wrenches out a strip. His hands are too slippery to get a packet open, though, and he curses as the condom slips out of his hands. Sid scrambles upright and plucks the strip out of his hand. He gets one open easily and grabs PK’s dick with no finesse.

PK can’t complain though, because Sid gets the condom on him in record time, and then kneels up on the bed and pulls him into a filthy kiss. PK’s hands go back to his ass, and he slides two fingers back into Sid easily, fucking them into him in time with his tongue working in Sid’s mouth. 

After a long moment, Sid pulls back and looks at PK, and in an echo of their earlier moment, says 

“PK, I really, really want your dick in my ass.” He’s grinning and PK can’t oblige him fast enough. 

He gets behind Sidney, arranging him on his hands and knees. Sid’s body is begging for it, his hips twitching in anticipation. Fuck, this is going to be amazing. He lines his cock up against Sid’s hole and pushes in slowly, one slow, smooth stroke in and all the way out.

“Fuck,” Sid says with feeling, dropping onto his elbows and arching his back. “ _Fuck_.”

PK fucks into him again, just as slow, but he stay buried a fraction longer this time before he retreats, loving the way Sid’s rim clings to him as he pulls out. Before Sid can complain, he pushes his cock back into his hole and starts to fuck him slowly, as deeply as he can. His hands are tight on Sid’s hips, holding them in place so PK can control the pace. 

Sid’s ass feels as good as PK was sure it would, and Sid himself is a dream. He’s so eager and so _loud_. PK wonders if he’s always like this or if it’s this is the gold-medal-winning version of Sid. He kind of wants to find out. 

He fucks Sid for long minutes, building up a rhythm that has Sid panting and squirming. Sid’s hand is on his own dick, working it furiously, but PK’s not ready to see him come. There’s something else he wants first. 

“Hey,” he pants, leaning forward to drape himself over Sid’s back. He sucks a long kiss into one of Sid’s shoulder blades. “Switch it up? I wanna see you ride me.”

“Yeah, shit, yeah,” Sid says, like it’s the best idea he’s ever heard. 

They rearrange themselves without any stray knees or elbows going anywhere fatal, and when Sid slides into his lap and onto his dick, PK is certain life can’t get any better than this. There’s a sheen of sweat on Sid’s chest and he’s panting as he plants his knees and starts to rock on PK’s dick. 

PK rests his hands on Sidney’s thighs and just watches, almost awestruck, as Sidney moves. Sidney’s eyes are closed but his lips are parted and his dick is red and wet, smacking against his stomach on every stroke, and PK can’t decide which part of him to stare at. 

“Fuck, you have a great dick,” Sid breathes, although his tone is almost conversational. “But I’m really doing all the work here.”

And PK can’t have his honour impugned like that, so he starts to move, pushing his hips up in time with Sidney and Sidney bites his lip in pleasure on every other stroke. It’s gonna be over soon if he keeps doing that, but PK will be damned if he lets himself go before he’s made Sidney come.

PK gets his hand around Sidney’s dick and starts to stroke, trying to imitate how Sid had been working himself earlier. Sid seems to like it, since he starts groaning a mix of “fuck”s and “yes” and PK’s name. He has a vice-like grip on one of PK’s shoulders, his fingers biting into his skin. 

“Faster,” Sid gets out, “just a bit—faster,” and he’s stopped bouncing, he’s just rocking back and forth, trying to simultaneously fuck into PK’s fist and back onto his dick. PK obeys him and Sid throws his head back, his eyes squeezed shut and then his whole body tenses and he starts to come, shuddering and moaning as he shoots into PK’s hand, some escaping onto his own chest.

PK keeps fucking him, less frantically than before, continuing to stroke Sid’s dick until Sid groans and pushes it away. He collapses forward, pressing his forehead against PK’s, letting their lips hover against each others’. PK kisses him and Sid returns it, light pecks almost absently given as he catches his breath. His hips are still twitching, the tiny motion absolute agony to PK.

“C’mon,” Sid says after what feels an interminable amount of time but was probably only a minute or so. “Keep going.” He sounds exhausted but he’s trying to move, still trying to make this good for PK. “Or I could suck you?” he offers, licking his lips. 

“Oh god,” PK says, and rolls them so Sid’s on his back. He slides out of Sid when he does so, but Sid gets the picture pretty quickly, pulling back his thighs and putting himself on display. 

“C’mon,” he says, “I can take it. Love getting fucked after I c—mfpf.” His words get lost in PK’s mouth, but he kisses back as PK starts to fuck him again, desperate to come. 

It doesn’t take long before he does, and Sid moans right along with him, dropping his thighs to claw at PK’s ass like he’s trying to hold him inside him as long as possible. PK doesn’t have an official list of the best orgasms he’s ever had—he’s generally of the opinion that all orgasms are good orgasms, as long as everyone involved is having a good time—but he knows this one would make top three. He’s got his teeth on Sid’s jaw and Sid’s hands on his ass, and pleasure suffusing every single inch of his body. 

Eventually he collapses, rolling so he doesn’t squash Sidin the process. Sid squirms in discomfort as PK’s dick slips out of him, but then he turns and presses his face into PK’s neck.

“Not bad,” he says sleepily. PK snorts. 

“A bit better than not bad,” he says. Sid sighs, kissing PK’s neck. 

“A bit,” he agrees. He looks about ten seconds away from falling asleep, so PK dislodges him gently and gets up, stripping off the condom and disposing of it. He makes his way into the bathroom for a towel and then, a better idea occurring to him, hops in the shower for twenty seconds to rinse himself off. He emerges in a towel, another dampened one in his hand, and proceeds to clean Sidney up, just enough that he won’t wake up sticky and disgusting the next morning. Sid watches him through sleepy eyes, occasionally reaching out to pet along his hair, or his arms. 

“Mmm,” Sid murmurs when PK gets to his ass, and he actually pushes into it and lets out soft moan of pleasure.

“You are fucking insatiable,” PK tells him, but he drops the towel on the floor. and runs a gentle finger along Sid’s puffy, red hole. He could probably get back in there no problem, Sid’s so loose, but he doesn’t want to hurt him and Sid really does look half-asleep. 

“T’mrrw,” Sid mumbles, his hand drifting down to cup his own dick. 

“Okay, Sid,” PK says, huffing a laugh. He’s not sure Sid will remember saying that tomorrow. 

PK’s a master of negotiating the post-hookup stay-or-leave conundrum, but this time he hesitates. Sid’s important to him—he’s not just a random hot guy he hooked up—and he’s also, technically, a co-worker. PK doesn’t want to fuck this part up. 

Sid solves it for him by grabbing his hand where it’s still sweeping over Sid’s ass and tugging until PK moves up to lie down next to him.

“Good,” he says. “Tomorrow.”

PK leans over him and flicks off the light on his night stand and lies down again. The bed is narrow enough that they’re more or less pressed together, so PK shrugs and rests his arm around Sidney’s waist. 

“What about Webs?” he whispers. “Won’t he be back tomorrow morning?”

“He’s seen worse,” Sid whispers back, and there’s definitely an amazing story there. PK is dying to hear it. 

“Okay,” he says and settles down. Sid’s the captain after all; he can call the play and PK will happily follow his lead. 

“Good game,” Sidney mumbles, patting PK’s arm where it’s resting on his hip. PK snorts. 

“Yeah, Sid,” he says, closing his eyes. “Good game.”

**Author's Note:**

> The instagram video mentioned is [here](https://instagram.com/p/kwz2QuBmlt/).


End file.
